Connections
by ZivaDavid-LesNinja-FemmeLove
Summary: It is scary to think that all of our lives were and are somehow connected. Now the thing of it is, these connections change. However gradual or constant, it can and tends to change. It changed the day Ziva David met her mentor. Another connection was made. The question is, how will the pair handle the change in connection, and the rest of the world, for that matter?
1. First Shift

**Connections**

Fan Fiction Story By: Sam Richardson

Chapter One- First Shift

It is scary to think that all of our lives were and are somehow connected. Whether it be through relation, sex, romance, friendship, or just a casual and simple meeting in a local grocery store; it's still all very scary to think that it connects all. It connects us as a species, as a group, as a community, never ending until you reach to last and first human. Now, the thing of it is... these connections, they change. However gradual or constant, it can and tends to change. It changed the day that Ziva David met her mentor. Another connection had been made.

Her name was Ziva David, a highly capable and rather young fresh out of the military Mossad officer. She was eighteen years old and felt ready to face the world with her weapons aimed high up into the sky. That afternoon, the sun blazing into her quarters with much intensity, the Israeli was summoned from her room and to her father, Deputy Director David's office. The halls seemed like short little obstacles to walk, and she strode on sturdy and well trained feet. Upon arriving at the door, she knocked.

"Come in, come in already... enough of the banging." Eli's voice rang out with authoritative valor.

The five foot seven inches brunette opened the door and smiled slightly to her father. Though, with a slight turn of her head, she saw her. Her mentor stood before her. The woman's hair was pulled back into a loose braid. She wore a pair of khaki cargo pants with a form fitting blouse with intricately designed buttons. Ziva, who seemed fascinated by the woman from the moment she laid eyes on her, allowed those very eyes to linger with much admiration. Stunned to the core, she stood there, feeling her heart frantic within her chest. What was she to do now? And then, the stranger made it easier for her, and stepped forward, hand extended.

"Hello, Ziva... my name is Monique Lisson." She introduced, her accent ringing out like the affectation of heaven's angels singing to her with melodious harmony.

Ziva could feel herself weakening in the knees and she did not understand this feeling. Not at all. Not only had she not known this woman five minutes or less, but she was exactly that. A _woman. _She had a toned and firm, feminine body... with feminine parts. Voluptuous lips which seemed to purse perfectly, radiantly glowing skin, breasts beneath her shirt... all of it which medically classified her female. So why on Earth did she make Ziva want to faint?

"I am looking forward to working with you." She added, hoping the awkwardness of Ziva not taking her hand would end soon.

Ziva, who finally tore her eyes away, noticed the hand and took hold of it, shaking it firmly though nervously. The tenseness in the grip gave Monique that indication as well.

"I-it's nice to, uh, meet you." Ziva stammered out, wishing to not sound so insane, or frightened. "Working with me?"

Ziva tilted her head to her father. He stood to his feet, fixing his tie before walking around the desk and going to his child. He gave a curt nod and looked between his daughter and the woman ten years older than her. He then gave a brief but known smile.

"She will be your mentor, Ziva... show you "the ropes" as they say." Eli spoke. "Lisson has worked with us in the past and I trust that she will be a very great instructor and advocate to you."

For a long while, Ziva was surprised. She had not expected this; not of her father at least. Perhaps he was softening with time? Perhaps it was just Ziva? Either way, she had no way of knowing and was not to dare try to attempt to figure it out, either.

"Thank you, aba." Ziva responded, looking to the alluring European beside her.

Monique gave this pleased smile, looking forward to getting to work with Ziva. Something about her instantly had her hooked, and all she wanted was to get that chance... that chance she never had with her prior mentee... a chance she hoped she would want the longer she got to know Ziva. She gently placed a hand on her protege's shoulder as she grabbed the file from the Director's desk. It was the first case they would be working on together.

"So, Ziva... shall we get to work?" She asked, holding up the file, hoping to tantalize the young Israeli, make her want to do the job just as much if not more than she did.

Interpol liaison officer Lisson gave a small smile of joy before resting her arm around Ziva's shoulder. She did not mind, Monique reasoned, therefore she was doing nothing wrong. However calm Ziva seemed on the inside, though, was just a mask. In fact, she was the most on edge person in the building. Her mind was a race of thoughts, more winning than she would like to admit. Her heart was a stubborn pound. What was it about Monique that made it seem so utterly impossible? She would soon discover it was something she never expected, nor wanted for and of herself.

The pair had arrived at this hotel in Tel Aviv, a small one mind you, but a hotel nonetheless. It did not matter to Monique though. She had learned ages ago not to get invested in the luxury of things. _Better safe than spoiled. _She sat down the surveillance equipment onto the bed before looking to Ziva. She seemed so involved as she scrutinized the interior of their new whereabouts.

Monique could not deny that in that time her coffee brown eyes managed to wander across Ziva's well built frame. She was so slim and toned. Her arms were rather svelte from what she could tell through her shirt sleeves, and her ass was rather firm, at least the looks of it. When Ziva turned slightly, she could see cleavage making it's way out of Ziva's low cut tank top.

Ziva turned around and smiled to Monique, her hands rested on her hips in a casual manner. She gave the small place another look of criticism before allowing her eyes to drift right back to the most beautiful sight in the room. Monique stood there looking to Ziva a moment longer before looking away and beginning to unpack the equipment from the suitcase they brought it in.

"Shall we take shifts or something?" Ziva asked, though as Monique unpacked she was trapped in thoughts of the Israeli and was not hearing much. "Woohoo, Earth to Agent Lisson... paging Agent Lisson."

Monique sat down the main camera before looking to Ziva. She kept her eyes on her for a moment too long before looking back to the technology before her on the bed. She nodded.

"Um, yes... this is what I was planning for us to do." Monique replied before quickly setting the things up. "How about I take the first shift... you could rest for now, or shower... whatever you must do."

Ziva shook her head before walking up to the brunette. Her eyes danced over Monique for a little while before their eyes met with a fury unlike any other. This was the moment, the first time the connection changed. It went from simple mentor-protege, to an attraction differing from anything either had ever experienced.

"How about I take the first shift?" Ziva asked, her accent unintentionally thick. "It shall prove to be worth your while."


	2. Fantasies

Chapter Two-Fantasies

Ziva sat at the camera, holding onto the guide lever as she aimed it mindlessly across the street, pointing it at the other hotel. Though, she was not paying attention to the inactivity that she would be seeing through the camera. Instead her eyes were on the sleeping frame of one Monique Lisson. She seemed very peaceful as she slept. Something about that drew Ziva even closer. '_I wish I could lie peacefully with you_', Ziva thought as she stared longingly. She wanted that so badly it hurt. She wanted someone to hold, someone who would let her hold them. Perhaps she could find that in the woman whom she'd been staring at for several minutes. Wait. What was she thinking? That could _never _happen. _Not ever. _

Snapping out of her headspace, she then returned her eyes to the view beyond the camera, though she could not focus on anything but how it would feel to have her tongue on Monique's body, or vice versa. Okay, she needed to stop this. Now. Standing to her feet, she began to pace with thought. What was going on? Why was this happening? She did not realize, though, that during her pacing, the scuffling of her feet on carpet woke Monique from her sleep.

"Ziva, what is the matter?" She asked groggily before rubbing her eyes of the sleep that seemed to find its way inside.

Ziva froze mid-step and looked to the woman who was sitting up on the bed. She bit her bottom lip, finding that the way the woman was positioned was beyond erotic, provocative. Swallowing hard, Ziva simply shrugged.

"Nothing," Ziva lied. "My legs got kind of sore from sitting for too long."

Would she buy that? Would she believe that Ziva's legs were sore? Monique tilted her head and looked Ziva over with much speculation and curiosity. She began to wonder if what the teenager was telling her was true. Though, she did not wish to start arguments by questioning it, so she simply nodded.

"Alright... want to trade off now, then?" Monique questioned.

"Sure," Ziva replied before gesturing towards the camera. "There is literally nothing going on. It is like watching paint dry."

She began to make her way to the bathroom, peeling away her t-shirt in preparation to shower. Monique's eyes never left her protege's frame and her heart was beating rapidly. Should she tear her eyes away? Before she is caught staring? Though, by that point it was too late. Ziva stood in the doorway and turned to look at Monique. She cocked her head to the side with much confusion. She wondered what was going on through Monique's head.

"Are you alright, Agent Lisson?" Ziva asked, her accent thickening as she spoke the woman's name.

Monique shrugged, biting her bottom lip for a moment. What was she to say? If she were to tell the abrupt and honest truth, that she wasn't alright because all that she wanted to do then was press her body to her own and pleasure her, she would certainly ruin her chances of ever getting to do so, if she ever had that chance.

"I am fine." Monique replied with a small smile, her eyes discreetly scanning over Ziva's front.

God, she was spectacular. Monique found her protege's frame to be absolutely divine, every curve perfectly sculpted, her breasts round and for lack of better words, perky. She bit her lip and turned around, looking through the camera as she tapped her leg, hoping to keep from doing something stupid. Ziva's brows knitted together in confusion before she gave up and shut the bathroom door. She finished undressing before starting the shower. Letting the water warm up, she waited as she looked into the mirror. What was this anyhow? Were they flirting with each other? Was Ziva flirting with Monique? Was Monique flirting with her? Good God, why did things have to be so damn difficult? Ziva then looked herself in the eyes and wondered something. _Could I be gay? _

Monique sat there, her desire for Ziva reaching a whole new level. With nothing going on through the camera, Monique sat back and shut her eyes, imagining herself in that shower with Ziva. She imagined pinning Ziva into the wall of the shower, the woman gasping in sheer pleasure as the cold of the wall sent chills down her spine. She imagined wrapping one of Ziva's legs around her waist and thrusting her digits into her center with the utmost unadulterated pleasure. Though, this daydream did nothing to help Monique in any way. It only made the flame grow larger and hotter.

Meanwhile, Ziva stepped into the shower and looked around it in the semi-darkness. Tugging at her bottom lip, she imagined Monique coming in through that door mysteriously and sneaking into the shower. She imagined Monique pinning her up against the wall and running her hands over her frame before taking a few of her digits and plunging them into her with much force and pleasure.

Ziva was so enthralled by the fantasy that she had to brace herself with the wall. She listened closely, as if to listen for Monique. She wondered if the woman was paying attention somehow, and when she heard nothing, she let her free hand start to run over her frame, arousal rushing through her as she closed her eyes and imagined her. Monique. Her hand got lower and she propped her leg up on the edge of the bathtub part of the shower before letting her fingers rub her clit. This was not her first time experimenting with masturbation, but it was the first time she fantasized while doing it. Especially about a woman.

A tiny moan left her rose-colored lips as she thought of what Monique would do to her and her actions got more and more vehement. She wanted more, and in that moment, she wondered if Monique would assuage that desire. Ziva thought Monique to be the withholding type so she let her hand stay right where it was. _Beg for me_, Ziva imagined her mentor's accent ringing out. A somewhat loud whimper left her mouth from deep within her throat.

"Please," She cried out slightly.

Then she let her hand slowly go lower and she began to pleasure herself with her fingers, the shower filling with her moans. The moans were muffled by the walls, and as Monique sat, having her own daydreams, she could not really hear anything. Monique's body, however, was reacting to the fantasy, however she knew she could do nothing about it. Not here. Not now. She did not have the luxury of the shower, as Ziva did. When the Israeli released, her eyes fluttered open and she felt something she never felt after masturbation... excitement. She now had this new sense of wanting, that was stronger than any other she had experienced.

After actually bathing, the brunette climbing of the shower before using a towel to dry off all the moisture on her long and lean frame. She then put on a bathrobe before tentatively exiting the bathroom. Ziva could not help but to smile when she saw Monique, knowing that her self-induced pleasure had not been heard by the one and only outsider. She blushed when Monique looked at her as she went to her bag. She rifled through her things, her eyes going to Monique after a few moments.

"I, uh... I forgot clothes." She said with a nervous laugh.

Monique nodded in understanding.

"It is alright." Monique said, watching Ziva closely. "So, did you have a nice shower?"

Ziva's eyes widened as they went to Monique again. Did she know? She could not have, could she? She was probably just being paranoid, and after the Israeli reasoned it away she nodded.

"Oh, yeah... it was all right." Ziva said with a shrug, gathering a pair of black sweats and a loose fitting tank top.

Ziva knew that at some point this had to stop. Not only would her father greatly disapprove of this, but there was no way she could allow herself to fall for the woman. She knew that this had to remain a mere fantasy. Anything more could be deadly. This was how she thought. Little did she realize at the time, maybe leaving it at a fantasy was not what was meant for their connection. Maybe it was meant to evolve over time. Maybe it should _not _remain a simple fantasy?


	3. Friends Are Friendly

Chapter Three-Friends are Friendly

A few weeks had passed since the surveillance operation that Ziva and her mentor had been assigned on and every since the ending of it, the pair found themselves hanging around each other outside of work more and more frequently as time passed. Ziva was surprised, but pleasantly so. They were becoming friends. Ziva and Monique both thought this to be a good thing, thinking that they would get to know each other and be friendly outside of the confines of Mossad. However, Eli was not too keen on this. In fact, that was the opposite of what he wanted.

That afternoon, Ziva was sitting in her quarters as she read a book. A book she was not paying the slightest attention to. It remained within her hands however, for reasons she was totally unsure of. Huffing a frustrated sigh, she slammed shut the book with vehement passion before tossing it to the other end of her bed. Her mind, no matter how hard she tried, was constantly on her.

Monique would not leave her every waking and sleeping thought. She was ever present in her brain, permanently etched there as well as her heart. Her frustration turned to annoyance and she lied back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She did this for the longest time and all the while, she imagined herself sitting up on that bed, with Monique sitting beside her, kissing her deeply as her hands roamed her all too responsive frame. Though, her internal and immoral thoughts were disrupted by a knocking at her door. Shooting out of bed, the Israeli rushed to the door and opened it. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw Monique on the other side of the threshold.

"Did I summon you with my mind or something?" Ziva thought out loud, certainly shocked that one moment she was daydreaming of this woman and the next there she was.

"Excuse me?" Monique asked in a laugh, finding Ziva's words to be quite humorous.

"Oh, um... nothing. I-I mean I was j-just thinking about you and well... now here-here you are." Ziva replied, her voice trembling and her knees buckling.

"Ha, well... I really do not know if I should be flattered or disturbed." Monique replied before bypassing the Israeli and entering her quarters. She looked around and then allowed her eyes to go to Ziva. "I like your place. It is very you."

Ziva swore she could get lost for days in that smile. She shakily shut the door before standing up against it. She swore that was the only thing keeping her from fainting. _'Pull yourself together. She is just a woman, just another woman. She is your friend and mentor, get a grip.' _Ziva mentally reprimanded herself before pushing herself up from the door. She could do this. She could be normal around her. _'Oh, who am I kidding?'_

"It is very small." Ziva responded, for it only had the main room, a bedroom, a bathroom and a large closet.

A tisk tisk sound left Monique's lips as she stepped towards Ziva, a smirk glowing across her face.

"Remember something, Dear Ziva." Monique started, before moving her lips to Ziva's ear. "Better safe than spoiled."

A shiver rushed down Ziva's spine and her heart jumped, beating ten times faster than it was before. She pulled back not even half a step to look Monique in her coffee brown orbs.

"What... what, uh, brings you to my room, Monique?" Ziva asked, blinking a few times as she waited for her answer.

"I wished to know if you were busy or not. Because, I would love to take you out to coffee." Monique replied, her European accent thickening.

Ziva swallowed hard, unable to control her nerves. She clenched her fists and bit her lip, this lasting for a mere few moments. However, Monique noticed it. Monique noticed her love interest's inner struggle, and how her control was diminishing and yet strengthening all in the same time. After a few moments, though, Ziva allowed her hands to uncoil and her lip to be relinquished before she verbalized a response.

"I would love to go to coffee with you."

And with that, Monique led the way to a local cafe about ten blocks away from the Mossad building and there that sat, outside of it, enjoying the beautiful sun and calm breeze. A waiter came by and got their orders and when he left, the French-Spanish-Italian woman reached out for the brunette in front of her and touched her hand gently.

"So, tell me, Ziva... what is about coffee that you like?" She asked, her accent so lustrous.

Ziva wondered for a few moments if this was just how her accent was, or if she made it purposefully making her tone saucy and sexy, as if to draw her in somehow. When Ziva heard the question, she was then perplexed. It made her think. What was it about coffee that she liked, anyway?

"I, uh... I enjoy how... people can make coffee into this art form, do you know what I mean?" Ziva replied, tilting her head.

Monique breathed a laugh and nodded, looking down at her lap before looking up to the Israeli before her.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Monique replied, running her tongue over her bottom lip.

"That question made me think." Ziva confessed, her smile widening for a moment. "I like people who can make me think."

Monique's little mischievous smirk played across her lips eloquently. Her elevator eyes scanned over what she could see of Ziva as her orbs conveyed questioning.

"Is that so?" Monique replied, eying her friend admiringly. "Good to know."

Ziva watched Monique's lips closely as she spoke, unable to keep from doing so. Those voluptuous lips in combination with her stunning accent made her more than a bit excited. She would dare even say that she was indeed aroused by the almost black haired woman before her. Discreetly, she crossed one of her long legs over the other and bit her lip. Just when she needed the distraction, their orders came out and Ziva began to drink her coffee.

"Ziva, you are my friend, are you not?" Monique asked after she took a drink.

Ziva paused her drinking before looking to the woman and nodded.

"Well, yeah, I would like to think that we are friends." The Israeli replied honestly.

"Then, tell me... why are you so wound up and uncomfortable around me?" She asked, pausing a moment before speaking again. "I mean, I could be wrong, but you seem so tense around me. Either that, or are you just tense?"

Ziva shook her head, denying her words before sipping more of her coffee, trying to ignore the mental images of Monique thrusting her fingers into her, making her scream. Monique, meanwhile, was eying Ziva curiously. '_Maybe if I rattle her up a bit... get a response... then I will know.', _She mentally hypothesized as she looked at the eighteen year old.

"Perhaps I could massage you." Monique stated rather bluntly.

In an instant, Ziva choked on her coffee, certainly not expecting to hear such suggestive words coming from her mouth. Once the initial shock was over she shook her head.

"No, thank you!" Ziva exclaimed, wiping her mouth.

Monique could not help but to laugh, having her answer.

"Alright." Monique said with a curt shrug. "Your loss, Officer David."

Ziva David swallowed hard and felt her heart race and her breathing quicken. _'Fuck. What the fuck am I doing?' _Ziva asked herself, mentally kicking herself for this. She was allowing this woman to get inside her mind, elicit emotion, fall for her. _'God, damn it, Ziva... she's a 28 year old __**woman**__.' _

It worried Ziva even more that she thought the decade's age difference was her first thought, not the fact that she was a woman. Holding up an index finger, Ziva tried to settle herself, be okay with this but that all changed when Monique touched her hand again. She jerked away and looked to Monique before standing to her feet.

"I can't do this." Ziva said, walking off without her barely touched coffee. "I... I just can't, Monique." She added as she walked off.

"Ziva, I was just being your friend!" Monique called after her before looking back to the coffee she left behind. Grumbling under her breath, she began to hate herself for driving Ziva away. She was too assertive. She had pushed her too hard and too far too quickly. "Fuck."


	4. Fight

Chapter Four-Fight

For the longest time, Ziva did not leave her quarters. She fell into this rather darkening and deep depression. She would sit by the window all day, just staring. She barely moved from there for anything, she did not eat much, and she did not talk to anyone for about two weeks. This especially included Monique. Several times, Monique called and even on a few occasions, she dropped by. Once, the older woman remember sitting outside for five hours straight tiredly knocking on the door, but eventually she gave up fighting.

She fucked things up. That is how Monique saw it. She had to go and be her overly flirtatious self and ruin everything that she and Ziva had started to have with one suggestive remark. She really did care for Ziva, in ways she never thought she would. At her own temporary apartment, she paced the floors of her living room and wondered what it was she could do to get Ziva out of her quarters long enough for them to have a conversation. It dawned on her.

The next day, she had Eli call Ziva down to the training gym in the Mossad building and Ziva reluctantly followed orders. Prepared to train, she came down to the gym wearing sweats and a tank top with a pair of tennis shoes that had hardly been worn. When she got there, she noticed Monique in there and nobody else. Ziva breathed a wry laugh before turning to leave.

"No, Ziva! Wait!" Monique called after the Israeli, rushing over to her. "Please, don't go."

Ziva turned around, glaring at Monique. The twenty-eight year old could see the anger in her mocha orbs and hated herself even more.

"What do you expect me to do, huh?" Ziva snapped, getting into Monique's face. "Do you want me to act like that did not happen?"

Monique's face then held a solemn and defeated look. She shook it before sighing.

"No, Ziva. Obviously I do not." She replied honestly, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh, really?" Ziva questioned, it quite apparent that she did not buy it. "Because to me, the only thing that was fucking apparent was the fact that you want into my pants!"

For a moment, Monique stood there and looked to the brunette, silent as her jaw signified that she was now angry. She let out a slow breath before speaking.

"That's low, Ziva." Monique said before going over to the punching bag. "Sorry I can't be a lesbian and have a friend who's a girl. It's all my fucking fault."

Ziva watched as Monique punched the bag a few times and with each time she felt more and more remorse drowning out the anger she felt towards the advance she thought Monique had made. She began to walk towards the woman, her arms out in a questioning manner, almost as if she were surrendering to her.

"Monique, I..." Ziva started, pausing between blows to the bag. "I am sorry. Can you please forgive me?"

Monique stopped mid-punch before bringing her arms down and stepping towards Ziva. She looked her square in the eyes.

"No." Monique speak hardenly. "I will not be the type to forgive ignorance."

A sorrowful look painted Ziva's face, and Monique crossed her arms after removing her boxing gloves.

"Though you can make it up to me," She spoke again. "Spar with me."

Ziva's eyes widened then, surely surprised by this notion. She wanted to _fight _with her. Why? It was then when it dawned on Ziva. Or, she thought it did at least. She wanted to _hurt _her. This was not true at all, of course, but Ziva had always been the 'worst case scenario' type. This time was no exception.

"Spar?" Ziva asked, tilting her head as nervousness swarmed over her. "Like, you wish to fight me?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Monique replied, putting her gloves aside.

"But, why?" Ziva further questioned, brows knit.

"Why are you questioning it?" Monique asked challengingly. "Afraid you will lose?"

"No."

Her answer was simple and matter-of-fact. More importantly, it was confident; more so than Monique liked, if she were so honest with herself.

"Oh? Then what is it?" The woman probed further.

Ziva let out a long sigh after that before sitting down on the mat, looking up at her with honest eyes, eyes which met very lonely ones in that moment.

"I am afraid that I will win... and that I will not only cause you emotional pain, as I have, but physical pain." Ziva started to explain, continuing to look between Monique and her lap. "I don't want that for us, Monique. I want to be your... friend, not your foe. That's the last thing I want."


	5. Fists Fly

Chapter Five- Fists Fly

Monique and Ziva for the longest time remained equally silent and still, just staring at each other. Monique then dared to move first, taking a couple steps towards her Israeli comrade before pulling her gloves back on. A small smile etched across her face before she stepped back onto the mat.

"Put your fucking gloves on, David... let's see what you've got." Monique said, more than ready to spar with her mentee.

For a long moment, Ziva stood there, rather shocked that she would still want to spar with her after all that had just transpired between them. She watched Monique as she stretched out her biceps and triceps. A breath of a laugh crept from Ziva and she tugged on a pair of boxing gloves. This obviously pleased the European woman, for a radiant grin came to her face.

"Thatta girl." She praised, bouncing on her toes a bit.

Ziva got onto the mat, holding her fists up into the air with a narrow eyed expression. Monique looked to Ziva, and held up her fists in front of her face, trotting up to Ziva. She swung, Ziva ducked before popping back up. She took her first swing, and Monique dodged out of the way, swinging right after. She got the side of Ziva's face, which caused her to fumble and Monique took advantage of this, getting another hit in. Though, right after the second, Ziva brought herself back up and hit the twenty-eight year old in the nose. She did not seem to falter in the slightest.

"Shit," Ziva muttered under her breath.

Monique smirked and took a couple more swings before moving her arm behind Ziva's neck and bending her forward before kicking her leg out from under her, causing her to fall to the mat. Just as she turned around to get back up, Monique had her pinned to the ground. Both were breathing heavily and Ziva did not know what it was she was feeling and she could barely comprehend anything in that moment. Monique, however, seemed so confident and sure of herself. Her face inched closer to the younger woman's and she began to count.

"1... 2... 3..." Monique said in a hot-breathed voice. "I win."

She stood to her feet quickly and offered out her hand to the brunette on the ground. Hesitantly, Ziva took it and got back up. What now?

"Round two." Monique challenged, trotting playfully around Ziva before taking the first swing, making contact with her jaw.

That one actually hurt. Ziva took a few moments to recover from the blow before swinging a couple times herself. And they must have spent fifteen minutes at this until Ziva mimicked the European's actions by kicking her out from under herself and pinning her into the mat. She spent several long and silent moments looking across her features before slowly letting go of her wrists, taking off her gloves.

"That was good. I... I think we should call it a day, Monique." Ziva spoke, her voice very timid and uncharacteristic.

What had Ziva suddenly behaving in such a manner? Was it something she did? Was she hurt. Monique quickly got to her feet and watched as Ziva began walking towards the door. She wanted to do anything in her power to stop her but she knew if she tried, that nothing would go right. Ziva, meanwhile, left the training center, full of self loathing. She was so confused, so petrified of what this meant for her as an individual. What did these emotions make her? As she had the older woman pinned, she felt nothing more strong in her entire life. She wanted, in that moment, nothing more than to kiss her. Fuck, she should not want to kiss her. Should she?

Once she was back in her room, she shut the door and leaned back against the door. Why? Why did this have to happen, to her of all people? Why did she have to be the one in the family having feelings for another woman? Luck of the draw? First born daughter? Genetic? Instilled? She was never less certain about something before in her whole existence. Ziva could no longer stand the fact that she had fallen head over heels for her. She also could not stand avoiding her. It was this mental tug and pull in opposing directions. And in that evening, she was unable to maintain her composure. She started to cry. Not only because she found herself depressed for the first time since her mother passed, but because she thought she loved someone she could not have. And that was what made the realization so much more painful.


	6. Fixing Things

Chapter Six- Fixing Things

Ziva sat in her quarters the next morning, her eyes fixated on the city life beyond the window in her living room. She bit her lip pensively as she thought of what she should do. She wanted to do something for and or with Monique in order to make up for her ignorant words and abrupt exit. The only question was, what was she to do?

There were many options. Maybe take her shopping? Ziva did not like it alot herself, but Monique was a girl. Perhaps _she _would be different? Perhaps she would wish to go? Or they could go see a movie? Go on a walk? Ziva then rejected those ideas. Too much like a date, she reasoned. They could not do it. They could not be seen together in such a setting. Then it dawned on her. Lunch. She could take her to lunch. A tiny smile formed across her heart shaped face and she instantly lunged for her cell phone which laid seven feet away. Once she had it in her hand, she dialed Monique's number, a number she would not forget for the rest of her existence. Almost impatiently, she waited for the older woman to answer.

"Ziva, hello." Monique greeted, genuinely surprised to hear from the woman she thought she would never see again. "I... I did not expect you to call."

"Why is that, Monique?" Ziva asked as she began to pace around mindlessly, randomly touching things within her reach as she did so.

"Well... I seemed to have upset you again." Monique responded, struggling to take off the jacket she so stupidly decided she could wear outside of the air conditioned apartment. "The way you walked out today... I thought I would never speak to you again."

A little piece of Ziva's heart started to break when she heard the sorrow lacing Monique's accented tone. She knew then that she _needed _to take Monique out, make amends. Was she really such a terrible person? What was happening to her that was making her so cruel?

"Oh, Monique... that's not true. I am so sorry I gave you that impression." The Israeli spoke, sinking into the couch as she spoke. "Monique?"

Monique smiled as her jacket finally hit the floor and she stood by the window, looking longingly towards the Mossad building. She could see it from her hotel and with every time she saw it, the more she wanted Ziva.

"Yes?"

Ziva bit her lip for a moment, her nerves becoming rather frayed. She opened her mouth to say what was whirling around in her mind, though she could not seem to verbalize anything. Where had her voice suddenly gone? Clearing her throat, she then attempted to speak.

"I want to make it up to you, okay? I want to make all of this bullshit up to you." Ziva confessed, looking up at the ceiling with a defeated sigh. "Can I take you out to lunch? I mean, are you hungry?"

"I would love to go to lunch with you." Monique replied with a radiant smile. "Well, you are the native. You should choose the place."

"Okay, I will... see you in about fifteen... twenty minutes. That enough time?" Ziva responded.

"Yes, Ziva... see you soon." Monique replied with a nod before she hung up the phone.

Ziva too hung up her phone and began to run her fingers through her hair. What was happening here? Was this a date, just as she wished to _avoid? _Was this just two friends going out to eat? Was there something there? Could Ziva allow herself to be something other than a friendship? Good God, who was she trying to fool? She wasn't even gay! Nothing was making sense anymore. Little did the young Israeli realize was that she was not alone.

Monique was frustratedly rummaging through her clothing shoved into her suitcase. She was aimlessly trying to find something nice to wear on her date with Ziva. Date?! No. No. Monique could not think of it that way. It was _not _a date. It _could not _be a date. She could not allow herself to go down the road of dating a woman ten years younger than herself who had one hell of a time trying to convince Monique that she was not a lesbian. Monique liked to think she knew better. But, she did not. And she knew that. She knew it like she knew her way around Spain, in her heart.

"Fuck!" Monique shouted, tossing a blouse across the room. "FUCK!"

Her screams were so vehement and anguish-ridden. She no longer knew what to do with herself. Her heart was insanely beating in her name. The name of Ziva. She wanted the officer more than anything she had ever once wanted before. But, this, like most things she desired, she could not have. And to be honest, it broke her resolve and frayed her nerves to the core. And she could not handle this anymore.

Ziva dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, not wishing to dress too flashy for the European for fear of making the wrong impression. As she did her hair and makeup, her mind went through things to talk about with her in a mechanical manner. Other than the obvious, se wished to talk about other things, make conversation during the lunch. When she finished, she sighed and took a moment to mentally prepare herself. She had no idea what she was getting into here, whether it was uncharted territory or familiar ground, but she knew she needed to be ready for whatever was to happen. Regardless, she was doing this because she knew she had to fix things between her and her mentor if anything was ever going to work correctly between them.


	7. Figuring It All Out

Chapter Seven-Figuring It All Out

Ziva could feel her heart racing against her chest, like unrelenting fire burning within her permanently. It took every ounce of courage she had just to leave her quarters, and when Ziva left the Mossad building in and of itself, she got even more nervous. Did she have anything to be nervous about? Running a hand through her hair, the Israeli walked to Monique's hotel and found the room in which she was staying. It took her ten times of walking from one side of the hall to the other, her fist going up each time in order to knock on the door. Good God, she was not ready for this. Someone come tap her out. Sadly, this was not a possibility, and she was going to need to suck it up and get Monique out to lunch. She just needed to make it up to Monique. Shoving her hands into her pockets, waiting for Monique to open the door and when she did, she swallowed hard, wanting to faint right then and there. Ziva bit her bottom lip and waved to Monique. There was so much Ziva wanted to say, though she knew she could not. So, she went with something frank and simple.

"Hello," She greeted, a tiny smile playing across the eighteen year old's rose-colored lips.

"Hello Ziva." Monique replied, her eyes sneakily wandering Ziva's frame for a moment before returning to meet her gaze.

She then reached behind herself and took her wallet from the table along with her room key before stepping outside into the hall, firmly planting herself next to Ziva before closing the door and securing it.

"Shall we go or did you wish to step inside for a moment?" Monique asked, looking to the Israeli with a curiously raised eyebrow as her thumb gestured behind her, over her shoulder.

'_That would be the worst idea in history,' _Ziva thought to herself before shaking her head.

"No, we can just go." She replied, hands up slightly. "Though, you need not bring money." She added gesturing towards the wallet Monique shoved into her pocket. "I am paying." Ziva stated firmly before leading the way.

Ziva continued walking with Monique until they got to Roslyn's, a little restaurant in which her mother would always frequent, often times taking the young Israeli with her.

"You, my friend, will love the falafels... if that's what you get. Whatever you get, I'm sure you'll love." Ziva spoke, gently touching Monique's arm as she spoke though quickly pulled away when she realized what she was doing.

Ziva allowed the hostess to lead the two brunettes to a table and they sat together. The restaurant was beautifully lit and the people all around seemed so happy to be there. That was the dynamic of the place. It was rather friendly, and homely, though nice and eloquent. Though this was not really what Ziva was focused on. The hostess handed them both menus and with a friendly smile she told the pair of the specials. Ziva bit her lip as she looked over the menu, more nervous and shy than she had ever been in this sort of setting.

As Ziva lead Monique to the restaurant, the older woman could not help but to feel uneasy. The way Ziva carried herself seemed different, as if she had not only become more confident, but also become more nervous, anxious even. Monique shook her head when she mentioned paying and took my seat with her, before proceeding to look over her menu after the hostess left.

"I think I will just have what you are having and a glass of water." Monique said, putting the menu down, not really sure what she would have wanted from such a place.

She then allowed her hands to be clasped together on the table, resting there as her right foot tapped the floor beneath, her mind all the while thinking of Ziva in situations it should not. She envisioned herself sitting beside Ziva, her hand slowly snaking up her thigh and going discreetly to her belt... No. Stop. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she looked out of the window they sat beside for just a moment before looking back to the Israeli before her.

"Okay," Ziva spoke, looking out of the corner of her eye as she peered up from the menu.

her eyes scanned over Monique and she could not help but to notice the cleavage spilling from her shirt. _NO! NO! Stop this!, _Ziva shouted at herself within her head. Ziva tore her eyes away and decided to order an Israeli Salad and also got water. Her appetite was suddenly diminishing. She could not handle this. she shut her menu and ordered for the pair when the waitress came over. Ziva ran a hand through her hair and rested her head on her hand as her elbow propped her up. There were so many questions swarming the Israeli's mind. But there was no way she feasibly could ask some of them.

"So..." Ziva started, looking to Monique as her heart leaped into her throat.

"What is it Ziva, you seemed to have something on your mind when you called. I assumed there was a reason for this lunch... What do you wish to speak to me about?" Monique questioned, getting straight to the point, looking to her with a puzzled expression, trying to figure out what it was that Ziva wanted.

She could not help but to feel as though she were getting whiplash from Ziva's words and actions, that tug and pull that went on with her... so close one moment, so distant the next.

"Tell me, what is on your mind." She added, sipping her glass of water after it had arrived.

Ziva let out a slight sigh before looking to Monique with apologetic eyes. She sat back in her seat, running her tongue over her bottom lip before speaking.

"Well, it is as I said. It's an apology. I feel awful for just walking out of the gym like that." Ziva said in a breath, shrugging afterwards. "I do not know what is going on with me, to be honest." Ziva added sincerely.

Though, part of her did know... She was just too far into denial that she could not quite understand anything yet.

"I am so sorry... please... forgive me?"

"An apology really isn't needed, Ziva you simply left... It is not as if you had an obligation to stay. Though this lunch is a rather nice gesture." Monique replied, sipping her water once more before setting it down onto the table between them.

She shivered for a moment when a single droplet dripped onto her chest. Wiping it away, the European woman could not help but to chuckle.

"Well, at least it was water and not food." Monique murmured, glancing up at Ziva after speaking.

Ziva could not keep herself from staring as she did this and when the other woman spoke, Ziva yanked her eyes away. Good God, she needed help. This was not healthy, was it?

"Um... yeah... there's that." She replied, trying to act as if she had not witnessed anything.

They spent a while simply talking about their interests and various other small topic discussions and when it grew silent again. Ziva picked at her plate with her fork for the longest while before looking up at Monique. Ziva watched her as she took a long drink of her water.

"When did you know you were gay?" Ziva asked abruptly.

When Ziva asked me the question about Monique's realization of her own sexuality, she could not help but to choke on a bit of her water. She then swallowed the rest of it before clearing her throat. This certainly not a question that she expected to be asked, especially so suddenly and bluntly.

"Well, I suppose it was in my childhood when I first noticed that I was not like other girls my age. Though the moment I knew for certain that I was a lesbian was the night I had my very first kiss. Her name was Marina..." Monique replied, her mind drifting off to that fond memory for a short while before her eyes met Ziva's.

"When did you know you were straight?" Monique asked in a joking manner, hoping to elicit a smile from the young Israeli.

This jolt of electricity hit Ziva when she asked that question. It was one Ziva could not answer. She had never kissed a boy. Never liked a boy. She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders almost shyly.

"I do not know how to answer that question..." Ziva spoke, my voice trailing off as the confusion of the uncertain filled her heart shaped face. "I... uh... I really do not." Ziva added, brows furrowed as her eyes went from Monique to her food.

It was in that instant that she remembered that time when Roslyn's granddaughter, Sylvia kissed her at her bat mitzvah. She was Ziva's first and only kiss, but she pushed her away and told her that she was bad. God, was she really such a horrible person? She must hate Ziva so much, still. She looked up from her food and allowed her eyes to go to the European woman.

"So are you saying that you have doubts? About your own sexuality?" Monique questioned, somewhat hopeful yet now nervous that she would inevitably cut our lunch short and run out again.

Angry with Monique for prying into Ziva's personal life, even though she had opened the lid to this pandora's box all by herself.

"It is simple really, the way in which you go about figuring such things out." Monique added before sipping her water.

"Yes, Monique... I have doubts." Ziva replied, her tone stern yet not angry.

Her eyes looked to Monique for a long while before she spoke again.

"You want to know something, since I was ten my father instilled into me the ideas of what my plan was going to be. All my focus was, was school school school, boot camp boot camp boot camp, army army army, train train train, mossad mossad mossad. That's the dynamic of eight years of my life. It's not exactly as if I had time to wonder who I liked when my life was surrounded by guns, knives, bombs, and terrorists..." Ziva explained, looking at Monique as she spoke vehemently. "And it is not so simple very everyone... though if you think you simplify it for me, then by all means, do it... because you, my friend, would be doing me a great favor."

Monique could not help but to sit there in awe of the young woman and her voice, listening intently to her words as she spoke of her life and how it had practically been mapped out for her. Monique then smirked slightly upon feeling as if Ziva had challenged her.

"Well Ziva, why don't you look around this room for me and tell me the first person who you would wish to take home and make love to." Monique replied, gesturing around the room.

She had noticed a few handsome men as well as a few gorgeous women, curious as to who Ziva would wish to be intimate with, whom she found physically attractive.

"Do not think of what your father would want you to do, or who he would prefer you with. This is all about your desires, your urges and needs." She added in a hushed tone as her eyes locked with Ziva's.

Ziva looked around the room, finding some people fairly good looking but nothing that she would want to wake up next to tomorrow morning. And then she looked back to Monique and her heart thudded within her chest. Ziva inhaled sharply and shook her head slightly, tears stinging her eyes.

"I do not think you would like my answer very much." Ziva replied, running my tongue over my bottom lip as she tried my hardest not to cry.

Ziva feared that if Monique knew the answer, she would not wish to be around her anymore. Or something. One single tear rolled down her cheek as her hands gripped her thighs.

"Ziva, it does not matter what my feelings about your answer are, what I think or anyone else for the matter. It is only up to you, this is your life, your feelings and your heart. You know deep within you what you desire, I know this because I can see it in your eyes." Monique said softly in reply, reaching out and wiping the tear drop on Ziva's face away before caressing her smoothly skinned cheek.

"Take your life into your own hands, do what you wish, act upon your desires and see where it leads you. If it is a risk you are afraid of, just remember that life is full of risks that we must take to actually live." She added, smiling softly to Ziva, thinking that in this room was a person whom she would leave with after paying the check.

She did not dare to think that the person was in fact herself. Though she could not help but to have hope in trying to avoid the mere thought of her lips pressed against Ziva's own as her arms wrapped around her waist.

Ziva nodded as Monique talked, knowing that it does and did in fact matter. It mattered quite a bit actually. For it was she whom Ziva desired most. And it was a much bigger risk to take with her than any of the other patrons, male or female.

"But it does, Monique..." Ziva refuted. "It does matter!" she insisted before visibly looking defeated. "It matters because it's _** you**_." Ziva emphasized, near the point of sobbing. "It's always been you. Don't you get it?"


End file.
